The First Hunger Games (District 11)
by AdelaideGideons
Summary: The First Hunger Games in Swift Cument's eyes.


Chapter One:

Morning of the reaping.

I am Swift Cument, age 12, from District 11. This is my story.

On the morning of the reaping, I slept in late. Not because I'm lazy, but because here in District 11, with all these orchards to harvest and care for, we spend the whole day from 6 in the morning until 6 in the evening out there. Another reason for my sleeping late is because I want to close the shutters and lock out the world until tomorrow. Tomorrow, for my family, my brothers and sisters not to be selected, out of thousands of District 11 children, to be whisked away into the Capitol to slit other children's throats. No, that won't happen. I can't let that happen. My family cannot afford to lose other family members. We already lost several in the rebillion.

Thankfully though, my mother shook me gently awake at ten the next morning, urging me to get up.

"Swift..?Swift! Wake up, dear. We have to get you some breakfast, and get you prepared for the reaping today..." Her voice was blunt, sad even. I knew she was worried about us being selected as tributes. Especially with all the tessarae we took ; we briefly know the rules by now.

I slowly rise up, forcing my sleepy eyes open along the way. The light in our small, worn, 3-room house is unusually dim and dark, but I can still make out the shape of my mother, kneeling beside me. I wrap my arms around her neck and bury my face in her warm, rose - scented shoulder. Not only to comfort her, but to comfort me. Because I am really, truly scared.

"It will be alright," I mumble, "If I get chosen, I promise you, I'll win."

"And win you will," she replies.

The day turned out ot be dark and cloudy, but I didn't really care. All through ten and eleven in the morning, my mother and my older sister, Aries, who is 19, already too old for the Games, busied themselves with preparing me and my brother, Bear ( who will turn 17 next month) for the reaping. All the little ones were sent out to play in the backyard, out of the way.

My long, curly dark blonde hair was raked into a high ponytail, with what Aries calls a 'French Plait' lining the side of my head. My white, slightly tanned skin was scrubbed raw by mother with her special rose cream, which she makes herself. My ears, nose and eyes where washed until sparkling state, and I washed my teeth and mouth with mashed mint leaves. My dress, one of Aries' old ones, was was yellow, with beautiful bows and buttons and matching black shoes.

By the time I was finished dressing, I astonished at my appearance. The old black shoes looked brand new, and my dress, oh, my dress. It fell down to my knees, and was rather flouncy and frilly at the bottom. There was a large white bow at the waist, and several small ones trailing down the sides of my dress. Three round, small golden buttons rested firmly on my chest. My yellow sleeves were long, loose and frilly, and I twirled across the room in my new outfit. Aries had also torn a small piece of material from the bottom of the dress and used it to make a pretty headband around my head. We don't have a mirror, only a small, cracked chip which we only use to make sure we don't look incredibly bad, so I just imagined myself in my mind.

"You look beautiful!" Aries said triumphantly. She herself had already dressed in her white dress which she only wears for special occasions.

Bear didn't look so bad either. Mother had managed to fit him into one of father's best shoes, which shone, and he wore brown pants and a simple white shirt. His usually untidy hair was, most surprisingly, knot-free, and slicked back. With water, perhaps.

Half of me wanted to laugh, half wanted to cry. I had never seen Bear so tidy before.

"Bear, Swift? It's time for breakfast. Call in the little ones on your way! Hurry though, we must be at the square by 12," my mother called from the kitchen.

For some reason, I expected our breakfast to be better than usual, since it was reaping day, but it wasn't. All I got was half a fried egg, half a tomato and a slice of the disgusting, dense loaves of bread we make ourselves. Nevertheless, I tucked in, just like everyone else.

My family, as you might guess already, is very poor, like the majority of District 11. We live quite far from the Square, in an area called the Gutter. That's because we live on the very edge of District 11, the filthiest and most disgusting area in the distict. All the filth of District 11 seems to fall in this area. The road is punched with holes, bumpy with tree roots and especially muddy. The mud itself is filled with rotten leaves and fruits, and a lot of trash as well. So you see, it's not a nice place to live at all. The road, however is stuffed with houses. They are all literally crammed together, each small, dark and dusty. Not to mention dangerous. These houses were built from whatever people could find, and every week at least 2 houses crumble down, leaving families in despair. I've been through that before. Once, when I was six, the roof of my house collapsed during a storm. Luckily no one was hurt. And only recently, the kitchen/bathroom wall fell down.

But my family is really lucky to have a home all to ourselves. I've seen two or three families living in house before.

But now, as we're walking to the square, Bonny and Beanie, the 5 year old twins, are walking behind mother, clutching the hem of her skirt, nibbling their fingernails anxiously. Zora, my 2-year old sister, is perched on Aries' hip, looking confused. Aries herself had put on an expressionless face, and put her chin high up, putting one foot in front of the other. Bear was trying to copy her, but wasn't sucessful. His hand were shaking and he kept on making strange movements, as if planning what to do if he was picked. I didn't blame him.

The closer we came to the Square, the streets begun to get crowded. Children and teenagers walked past, faces grim, hands curled into fists. I even spotted a few of my friends, but this wasn't the time to run over and say hello.

Walking, walking, walking.

_Keep Calm, _I tell myself, as we enter the square. I catch sight of my reflection in one of the buildings, and feel quite upset to see that I look just as shabby as the other children. My shoes are brown and muddy, and the bows on my dress look saggy and worn. I sigh, say goodbye to Bear and head of to a place marked for 12 year olds.

The next things that happen are a blur. My blood is sampled, my name and age is taken, I have to sign some papers, and write my name on a piece of paper twice and put it into a large ball. Everything seems to happen too quickly, and before I know it, the large town square clock strikes twelve.

And absolute silence.

I scan the square. Family members stand around, hand in hand, praying their child will be spared. All the children around me, standing straight, knuckles white, are staring straight ahead at the stage, which is lined with three empty seats, two large balls on either side, and one microphone in the middle of it all. Capitol banners are hanging everywhere, and I noticed that there were large screens all over the place.

As the clock gonged for the last time, a woman strode onto the stage, a large smile plastered on her face. For a split second, I thought she was a clown, but then I realized she was from the Capitol.

Her neon blue hair was braided oddly and pulled into a pyramid shaped bun on top of her head, and she wore a ruffled, studded purple top along with a tight, light blue, gold- trimmed skirt which reached her knees. Her shoes were most bizarre. They started out as sky blue heels,but then formed into a pattern of crazy swirls and shapes up her legs and ended just below the knee. Her lips were painted purple, and her eyelids were covered in a gold glitter, which she wore with an ocean blue eyeshadow, making her brown eyes stand out. But what I found most interesting about her was a tatoo on her face. It stretched out from her left ear and ended just a few centimetres away from her nose. It was some sort of arched blueish arched triangle.

"Good Morning, District Eleven!" she burst out.

No one moved.

"I'm Ocean Blairica, your new Hunger Games Escort!"

Ocean. I wasn't surprised she wore so much blue.

" And please, welcome Polar Friz, your new Hunger Games mentor!"

A muscly man with dull green hair and chocolate skin walked out onto the stage, waving. _Probably from the Capitol as well, _I thought.

"And last, but not least, your MAYOR STABLO!" she boomed.

Our mayor proudly walked onto the stage, waving as he went, receiving a short applause. He walked up to the middle of the stage, fixing the microphone into a suitable position.

Ocean and Polar seated themselves on two of the chairs.

"Good day to you, District Eleven." His voice was flat, not all squeaky and bubbly like Ocean's.

He began to explain the Hunger Games, showing clips of the rebellion on the screens as he went, telling that the Games were our punishment. He then began to explain the rules of the Games.

"No cannibalism, and no fighting with tributes before the Games. That would be all." He bowed, took a step back and sat in his seat.

Almost immediately Ocean sprung up, smiling radiantly.

"Time to pick our tributes!" she squealed excitedly. "Ladies first!"

It became so quiet as she plunged her hand in one of the balls filled with little slips of paper, I could have sworn I heard a mouse inhale. All the girls around me were pale and standing still as stones. Some were nibbling their fingernails, their eyes darting around the square, looking for some sort of escape.

Ocean's hand circled around the almost full ball, hoping to select someone worthy, I guessed. Finally, she plunged deep in, and came out with a slip of paper.

My own heart drummed in my ears, and I was trembling. From cold? Or from fear? I couldn't tell.

She primly walked back to the microphone, and I could hear the soft crinkle of the paper being unfolded.

"...Swift Cument!"

Just as she said my name, there was a crack of thunder and it began to rain.


End file.
